Assassins Creed: Flight
by Johnathan soulless
Summary: Years have past since Ezio died, and his 18 year old daughter Flavia is training her 14 year old brother Marcello to be an assassin. The twist is that, while she is as agile and sprightly as her father, he is unable to free-run effectively. Despite this, Flavia insist that he help her uncover the truth about their fathers mysterious death, and whether or not it was natural...
1. Prologue: Twin devils

It was a risky move for Emilio to infiltrate the Auditore residence in the daytime; he had been advised by his anonymous employer to break in at night. But some stuck up aristocrat wasn't going to tell a master burglar how to do what he did best. The old man chuckled to himself as he slid silently out of the shattered window that had been his point of entry, a bundle of documents stuffed into his tunic.

He was now a courier by trade, but Emilio's old skills as a burglar still served him well. While he wasn't as fast or agile as he used to be, old habits die hard and Emilio had still managed to slip in and out with his prize before any of the city guards had seen him trespassing on the restricted family estate. 'At least', Emilio thought to himself as he began his steady decent, 'I don't think I was seen'. Emilio admitted to himself that the break-in had not gone entirely to plan. He had narrowly escaped the Auditore woman and her little whore of a daughter, and it may have just been his eyes playing tricks on him, but Emilio swore that he had seen a figure dart around a corner several times while he was making his escape, including when he had taken that one final glance to make sure the cost was clear before exiting back out through the window.

But there was no way it was a guard, it was dark and rugged...Emilio gave his head a little shake as his feet hit the cobblestone street of Firenze. He had seen a small mass of guards gathering around the main entrance of the house upon his decent, clearly the absence of the secret documents had not gone unnoticed. Emilio was still unaware of the value of what he was stealing; his employer told him such notions would not interest him. He assumed it was some prized family heirloom though because the looks on those guards' faces could turn milk sour.

'Hehe, it seems they didn't foresee the idea that I would depart through a window. Some of the more foolish security I've ever seen.' the old courier smirked as he swaggered into the open bustling crowds of day-time Firenze. This was the easiest payment he had ever stolen for.

As he strolled down the street towards the address he had been ordered to deliver the documents to, Emilio noticed something unusual…something that made him feel off. The streets of Firenze were always bright and lively, whatever the season for it was just that kind of city. With the rich parties and the young roughens running around raising hell, the streets were always lively. But never before had the old man seen the streets so ablaze with colour and music. Being an introvert, it was obvious that some sort of celebration or festival was going on, and Emilio hadn't planned for it. He hadn't even heard of it. The loud music and street performers, the women throwing flowers and the children running around excitedly, all the decorations and atmosphere made it quite obvious that a wedding had just occurred.

The sea of smiling faces set Emilio's teeth on edge. His own faded shabby clothes made him stick out like a sore thumb, he had hoped to blend in with the crowd and simply float to his destination on an ocean of civilians, deposit his cargo and introduce his hefty sum to the nearest whore. But in this bustling crowd of colourful celebration made him feel…highlighted and exposed, easy to recognise. If any of the Auditore guard had seen him before, they would surely be able to see him from a long way away. He could not get caught, nor could he go to prison. Emilio's employer had made it very clear that to be arrested and to lose the documents was to forfeit the reward. He could not let that happen, he was too close. Emilio knew he was being paranoid and a cool head would help him to disappear, but in a strange sort of way, he felt that he would have been harder to spot if the street had been deserted.

Emilio began to walk faster as he felt panic stirring at the bottom of his gut, push past irritated looking flower girls and knocking over distracted party goers as he went. No point being stealthy now that he was most likely being hunted by the law. It was only a few minutes away after all, and there was a very low chance that any of the guards would notice him in ti- Emilio stumbled forward, his heart racing like mad. Out of the crowd behind him, Emilio had felt a sudden pressure pulling him back. This pressure had turned into a violent tug on the old man's cape, and when he turned around he saw a gloved hand gripping the dark red cloak affixed to Emilio's back.

Thrown into an animal panic, Emilio had yanked his cloak out of the pursuers grip and been thrown forward by the forced abruptness of the release. This had been just in time to avoid the shadowy assailant who pounced on the spot where Emilio had been just a moment before, from the roof tops above to land on a flower girl instead of him. She was wearing a bright red tunic, gathered in baggy sleaves around a pair of thin armoured armbrace's. She wore what appeared to be a sleeveless set of red robes, with long waist coats hanging low near a pair of black boots. Over her head was a hood, also red with a point like an eagle's beak to cast a shadow over her face. A red cape flew behind the mysterious woman like a magnificent bird of prey, and in her gloved hand she held the woman by the shoulder, pinning her to the ground and in her over hand was a long silver blade pointing directly at her throat. Emilio realised suddenly that he had just narrowly avoided his own assassination.

It was a whirl of violent shoves and cries of pain and surprise as Emilio sprinted off through the heavy crowd of increasingly rattled on lookers. The few times he dared to look back at the advancing assassins, he only managed to see a shadowy figure shoving his own way through the vast procession. Emilio had never been so scared in his entire thieving career, or indeed his entire life. He had just danced with death and emerged an escapee, and he intended to keep it that way. He was close, very close, the residence that he was heading for was at the other end of the street he was about to turn on to. From behind this corner, Emilio saw a large black horse emerge, carrying a nobleman riding side saddle.

Emilio's body sprinted all the faster at the sight of hope, he had been warned of these Assassin devils, he knew that they were fast, but there was no man alive who could outrun a horse. All he had to do was kick that idiot off and ride the beast to safety. He would use the reward to buy himself some protection and the Assassins would be powerless to touch him again. Emilio reached into his pocket and pulled out a dagger, and readied himself to jump up onto the horse to slit the bastard's throat. He seized the horse's reigns and-'BANG!'

Emilio covered his ears in pain. The shock broke his momentum and he fell back down into a standing position, still clutching the black horse reigns. The nobleman cried out in fear and tried to spurn the horse on, to make it run. But the horse did not run, it simply stood, swayed, and the nobleman was thrown from the saddle as the horse fell sideways, right on top of the unsuspecting courier.

Emilio roared with the sudden agony. He had not been able to escape the huge beast's weight and the sudden crushing pressure on his brittle old bones had caused his legs to shatter. His situation made him cry involuntarily, the misery at his entrapment and the pain of his broken bones made the reality of what was going to happen next all the more humiliating. When he opened his watery eyes to see his God, he instead saw fire, the red and orange dance of a billowing red cloak.

"Requiesce in pace."

 **Hi guys, please leave a review saying whether this concept should be continued. If you want to see more you need to let me know. Cheers.**

 **Johnathan**


	2. Chapter 2: Clipped Wings

"Come on, come _along_!"

"I can't!"

"What are you whining for? Of course you can!"

Flavia rolled her eyes and reached out a gloved hand, prospering it towards the skinny boy who was hanging bellow her in a hanging position, with his eyes clamped shut. She giggled; he looked so pathetic like this, no composure at all. His pale fingers were beginning to shake on the narrow ledge.

"I can't! I can't! I'm going to fall!"

" _Relax_ , and give your hand." Flavia spoke in a gentler voice this time, attempting to calm her little brother down, but to no avail. The boy still trembled as he opened his eyes, and focused on the hand that was stretched towards him; he looked at it with all the sanctity as if it was the hand of God himself. He wanted to reach out a hand and take it, but the combined strength of both his hands was already insufficient for holding onto the ledge, and one had no chance of supporting his weight. Flavia smiled at her hyperventilating brother confidently.

" _Trust_ me."

The boy stared from her smiling face to her gloved fingers, but could not muster the strength to look for anything wider to support his feet. He was pressed so hard against the side of the building that the indents in the wall were starting to hurt his chest and neck. But he could feel his fingers getting weak, and even with his notorious family name and its reputation for defying death, there was no surviving a fall like this. The young boy took a small breath into his shuddering chest, and extended his left hand a fraction of an inch... and his fingers slipped.

…

"That was certainly a close one...Marcello, are you alright?"

Flavia shook her brother as she held him in a tight one armed embrace, trying to get through to the small boy who was rigidly clinging to her with his eyes tightly shut. He had felt it again, that horrible sensation, that ghastly nothing, the feeling of falling back to earth. He could still see what had happened play over and over again in his kind, even though the moment had been fleeting, not even lasting for a full second. In spite of his shock, the young nobleman was surprised at his elder sister's strength and capability, not aware that she or anybody could move so fast. It still boggled his mind how falling didn't scare the hell out of her, like it did for him.

In the short time it had taken Marcello to fall a foot from his sisters location, Flavia had launched herself down past her brother and caught a ledge below him, turning right side up just in time to fasten her free arm around his waist. She would have been flying head first towards her doom, and yet she stayed completely calm and had the coordination to pull out of the death dive in good enough time to save his life. Marcello would be lying if he claimed not to be at all envious of his sister's bravery. The boy opened his eyes slowly and his vision filled with the glowing face of Marcello's sister, Flavia. Her skin was clean and tanned, with lightly shadowed brown eyes and a slightly patronising smile spread across her red mouth.

"Thanks…again" said the shaky Marcello, averting his eyes from the smarmy expression and staring at the midpoint between the spot where he had fallen and where he had landed.

"Oh there is no need to be embarrassed." Flavia couldn't stifle a snigger at her baby brothers pouting face. She could still see his green eyes as they stared awkwardly upwards. Marcello's skin was slightly paler than Flavia's, although that could be because of the shock. Mother always chided him for his pale skin; she said that he 'needed his fair share of sun.' What a ridiculous notion, that the sun was some sort of vast bank account giving out shares to all who walked beneath it. Seeing that the silly shaking child couldn't do it, Flavia assumed that the duty fell to her. Gripping her brother extra tightly, she began the steady accent to the roof.

* * *

"Lighten up, there is no need to make that face." Flavia laughed as she sat beside her brother on the rooftop they had been climbing. Marcello was still staring miserably into space, his knees drawn up to his chin, drawing his hands around them and hugging tight as the wind blew. "You made it about half way this time, that impressive…for you."

"Thanks." Marcello scowled, he had tried this very building at least one hundred times but he had never fully ascended on his own. It always fell to Flavia to get him past the window on the second story. He had grown to dread these lessons all week, for he knew how they would end. He would always fall or get stuck at the first impression of height, if only he could stop ascending. He wouldn't want to, he hated himself for being so cowardly, but his resolve would just dissolve the moment he felt that horrible tug of gravity resisting his muscles.

Flavia slowly got up and stared into the distance. Dusk was setting over the city, the tightly packed houses stretching out to the high walls, and the gaps between them jaggedly twisting like a vast shadowy labyrinth. The thick stone walls of Firenze stood darkly against the sun, intimidating both those within and without. Marcello forgot his depression for a moment as he saw his sister, standing against the wind, allowing the breeze to lift her hair out of her face and staring into the sunset.

"Are you alright?" Marcello asked, joining the young woman by the edge of the rooftop, although not too close for comfort. Standing next to dead drops unnerved him, unlike his sister on the other hand, seemed remarkably comfortable standing inches from her doom. She turned and smiled.

"It's been interesting, training for this. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I do know that this is the last evening I will ever have as a child…"

"It seems strange though, receiving training for a purpose they will not tell you about yet. These skills…they may be training you to be a thief, or maybe even a mercenary." Flavia heard this and burst out laughing.

"As if mother would permit me something like that, no I believe that it will have something to do with father's old work, and those strange men who talk to her every few weeks." Flavia turned this over in his mind and looked puzzled, what strange men were these? The only strange men that Marcello saw in their home whom he did not recognise were couriers. Their fathers career had never really been explained, mother had just told him that Ezio Auditore had been a philosopher who travelled around the world to spread peace and prosperity. Why would swordplay and climbing be relevant?

"Do you really think that father was a peaceful man?" Marcello asked Flavia, contemplatively. Flavia cast her gaze back out to the fiery horizon.

"Who knows…mother certainly speaks highly of him and his life, and we certainly have a home and plenty of wealth to live on because of him. I expect he may have been some sort of travelling banker, a preacher could not possibly be so rich."

Marcello felt his chest tighten slightly, and he looked down at his shoes. He had not known his father very well as a person, but they certainly got along. For an old man, he had been incredibly energetic and cheerful. He fondly remembered being taught how to play chess by his father, something that he and Ezio had greatly enjoyed. It was he who had taught him that the best defense was a good offence. Marcello's father believed that a fool waits for his enemy to attack first.

But father had been quite firm about Marcello not being shown how to wield a blade, although he very much wanted to. As a young boy, he would watch the house guards in their handsome uniforms and sparkling armour, clutching their shining blades and axes. He had always been awestruck by them and hoped to one day be as skilled as the guards were. But father had demanded he revel in study and school work instead, and mother had agreed.

Marcello had loathed the long hours at his desk and the high stacks of books he had to write about. While interesting and well written, the mere stories of heroes and legends would draw on too long, Marcello's interest would dwindle, and he would often find himself with his head in his hand, gazing out of the sunny window and envisioning his own future self, with a sword and a crossbow and a set of shining armour…

"Well, we should probably get home, come on" and without warning, Flavia seized Marcello's hand and started pulling him towards the other side of the roof. Looking down over the edge, he could see a large wagon of rose petals at the bottom of the tall building on which they were standing. Grabbing her younger brother and hoisting him up into her arms, Marcello knew instantly what Flavia was planning to do; she had that horrible excited gleam in her eyes.

"Don't-you- _ **DAAA**_ **AA** AAaaaaaaaaaaaaare..!"

* * *

"I wonder if mother will allow me to train like you have been." Marcello said to himself more than his sister as he grumpily picked scarlet petals out of his hair as they walked home together, Flavia bit her lip and looked skeptical.

"Who knows, she doesn't want to; I've spoken to her about it. She does not believe that you have the temperament. I have been trying to persuade her, but don't know for sure." Marcello stared at Flavia, red spots were appearing on his cheeks and he looked angry.

"Have the temperament?! What is that supposed to mean!?"

"Well…I told her how much progress you are making, buuuuuut…she still thinks it's too dangerous for you to be involved." Flavia said coolly. "She doesn't want you to be involved anyway; she would prefer you to be some kind of scholar."

Marcello sighed, that was what he was afraid of, and mother had become so protective of him since father had died. It was something that his sister was very critical of. It was the death of his father that had ended his long hours studying for a career he did not want, but it had also addled the relationship that he had with his mother Sophia Auditore. She had become extremely coddling and short sighted, treating him like a young child who needs to be protected. It was driving Flavia and him insane, and she wasn't showing any signs or relenting. When the siblings arrived home and knocked on the handsome front door of the Auditore residence, the door opened almost immediately. A pair of pail hands shot out of the open door frame, grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks and dragged them inside. A tall woman with red hair tied back in a plat and an extremely affronted expression glowered down at them both.

"And _what_ sort of time do you call this!?" Sofia shouted at Flavia and Marcello, who both were quite used to this and stood their ground calmly. "You two were supposed to be back well before sundown! Marcello you could have been…" she looked for a moment like the thought of whatever she had in her mind was too horrific to vocalise. "…And _you_!" She rounded on Flavia, her voice quite restored to its former volume. "Flavia, I'm surprised at you, I told you to bring your brother back before…"

"Mother you're absolutely right, what could I possibly have been thinking." Sofia and Marcello looked surprised at this sudden confession. Flavia had directed her gaze to her mother's feet and her bottom lip was quivering. Sofia looked quite deflated but still angry; she was slightly shorter than Flavia but still measured up.

"I don't know! You tell me!?"

"Why there could be all manner of burglars and bandits, mangy dogs and infected splinters outside this house." And Marcello was shocked to see real tears coming out of his older sisters' eyes as she began to sob. Whatever angers their mother had felt evaporated immediately as she stepped forward to comfort her daughter.

"Oh there there dear, there's no need for tears, I was only…"

"I should have brought him back sooner to the only place in this walled city where he can be kept under lock and key, and under constant watch!" Marcello was starting to buy the grief racket confession, but Marcello and Flavia's eyes met for a split second, and Flavia closed her left eye in a wink, silently informing Marcello that it was an act. She wasn't quick enough to avoid her mother notice however. Sofia struck Flavia on the side of the head, but not with any intent to seriously harm, the blow merely caused Flavia to swear, for which she got another blow to the head.

"There was no need for such foolish acts." Sofia laughed, quite amused at her daughters acting talents, all anger forgotten. "I only wanted to talk to you about your initiation." The simple utterance of the word 'initiation' got Flavia's attention.

"Am I finally going to find out what this is all about?" she asked curtly. Sophia shook her head. "You will find out tomorrow. I just wanted to discuss what you're going to wear."

She turned to her son and smiled happily, she was clearly just pleased that he was back inside the house.

"It's far passed your bedtime Marcello dear; I think you should sleep now."

He knew it was pointless to argue, so he kissed his mother and sister on the cheek, and slowly ascended the stairs to his bedroom. Sofia watched him go and then turned to her daughter, a puzzled frown on her face.

"Why has he got petals in his hair?"

"It's a silly new fashion mother, pay it no mind." Flavia spoke casually, but grinned from ear to ear.

* * *

Marcello's room was oddly large for a boy his size, but it was not designed for him. The room had once belonged to one of his two uncles, who had both been dead for many years. One had died at an age slightly younger than Marcello, so his room had been his first, but as he grew older, Marcello was given the room of his second uncle who had been much older and therefore had needed more space. Flavia had gotten their fathers old room, the one that he had stayed in when he was a boy. the room was so swathed with red; it might as well have been an inside of a some great animals mouth. It was square, with handsome brown wardrobes and gilded mirrors that reached to the ceiling. The elegant drapes hung in grandiloquent arcs from the single high window, cutting across the steady beam of light that illuminated the four poster bed, with its handsome scarlet hangings.

Marcello himself twitched as his tired eyes reacted to the light, and turned over in his linen sheets, determined to go back to sleep. He knew that dawn meant that it was time to awaken, but he also knew that his mother was already awake, because he could hear a steady tap-tap of women dashing about getting dressed. Marcello thought he heard Flavia's angry voice, but then again that could have been mother or one of the servants…or…

He was weightless, floating, unable to see his own feet…or even feel them dangling below him. Marcello knew he had eyes but could only see his surroundings, which were pure white. While he had no presence, he could feel the sensation of movement. Though he had no wings to carry him, Marcello was levitating as a shadow through a flat white void. Darting his gaze all around him, Marcello couldn't make out anything but endless silvery whiteness, and an odd assortment of white crisscrossing lines forming set squares around him, like great scaffolds of formless light. The whole thing felt extremely strange to Marcello, for he was in the grip of that weightless feeling that normally horrified him, yet he felt no fear, no apprehension.

The white began to intensify all around Marcello, near blinding him, and then the lines all began to shift and drift into the path of Marcello's gaze, and he stared perplexed as the lines began to glow, apart from the rest of the white…forming a symbol…two curved lines moving towards each other, and then…

"THINK FAST!"

Marcello started and let out a cry like a wounded animal, as Flavia fell on to him, still in bed, and drove her elbow into his gut. The curtains of his four poster bed and his room had been drawn back to reveal a darkening clear sky, and in the tangle of white sheets, Marcello could only see the canopy of the bed and his sisters smirking face inches from his own.

"Get off me, Idiota!" and Marcello pushed his heavy sister off his aching bones. "Why aren't you getting ready for your initiation or whatever it is?"

"That was hours ago, you were lazy and missed it." Flavia's voice sounded slightly hurt and a twinge of guilt as he glanced at the sun, now half set in the reddening sky. But Flavia's hurt expression was fleeting and her smile returned with interest. She seemed beside herself with excitement for some reason.

"What on earth are you so happy about?" Marcello asked gruffly.

"Oh, I'm not telling you here. We can talk freely outside."

Flavia's gaze drooped slightly, he had been excited to hear details of the initiation, but he knew that his mother would not permit him to leave the house if Flavia had secrets she wanted to divulge.

"Sorry, but Mother will not let me leave with you again. The door will be watched."

Flavia glanced over to the open window and the billowing curtains covering it, and then looked back at Marcello, a cunning look of inspiration in her eyes.


End file.
